Xander's POV
The scalding water hammered down on my shoulders, each droplet like a tiny punishment against my skin. I pressed my palms flat against the marble tiles and let my head hang forward, watching the water spiral down the drain at my feet. The bathroom filled with thick steam that wrapped around me like a suffocating embrace.
I should have felt clean. Refreshed. Instead, the phantom weight of her body still pressed against me from the dream. The taste of her lips lingered on my tongue no matter how hard I tried to forget.
The water began to cool, finally forcing me to step out. I grabbed a towel from the heated rack and dried myself with mechanical precision. My movements were automatic as I pulled on the clothes I'd selected the night before. Dark trousers that fit perfectly. A crisp white shirt that had been pressed to perfection. A matching vest that completed the image my father expected.
